


5

by cloudburst



Category: Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: M/M, even for another fandom -- kadara, it is still kadara, just assume that even if i write a fic that has no business on kadara, like all of my fics, this is on kadara
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 08:07:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10895214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudburst/pseuds/cloudburst
Summary: "What's it been now?" The wind blows; the water falls. Reyes' left hand supports him as his voice wavers—knee digging into the sand. And there's bitter laughter—bubbling up from the dead roses located in Reyes' diaphragm. "Five years?"





	5

**Author's Note:**

> hello and welcome to a party

For most, Kadara Port is a place of dampened technicolor—muffled dreams and sand sprawling before them as far as the eye can see. It is a place of thievery, smuggling, and murder; yet, it is truthful in its intentions. Kadara Port will not stab anyone in the back, for they knew the latent danger slinking through the air all along. 

To Reyes Vidal, Kadara Port is a masterpiece—bright and vibrant beneath the burning desert sun. The heat emanates from the sky, and the ground, and from Reyes' very core. _It is too hot._

"This is when we met, huh? I believe it was this season."

 _It is too hot_ , but Reyes Vidal does not care. 

"Then again, the heat on Kadara is—" A pause. "—always unbearable. It's difficult to tell what season we met." 

The light of Kadara's marketplace throws itself to the air—tangling webs of varying directions and multiple colors. Reyes recalls Ryder recounting a story of himself as a child, here on this ledge. And Reyes remembers falling in love, the exact moment his chest bloomed—flowers growing in his ribcage—making it difficult to breathe, peering down to the Kadaran surface that would become nothing in comparison to the constellations in Ryder's eyes. He recalls Ryder's voice, soft yet strong—holding him closer than anyone else's touch ever had: _"You're someone to me."_

Reyes' legs hang over the side of the ledge as he looks to the sunset just over the horizon. It will be dark soon. But he does not care—a myriad of colors playing a dangerous game across his features, cutting into sharpened cheekbones, drenching him in light, then shadow. Ryder would kiss him in the moments as the sun fell, lips trailing across his jaw, smile apparent: _"A beautiful light, on a beautiful man."_ Reyes would scoff, but hold him closer anyway.

Reyes Vidal cannot change the past, for he inhabits it—thrives there, holding onto the cords of memory that tether him. 

He leans back and thinks of the whiskey he'd shared with Ryder, warmth in his throat, chest, and belly—now, the ghost of a touch playing across his back—a whisper at his ear. _"I love you._

"I love you, too."

* * *

The water of Sulfur Springs hurls into the air—as if throwing itself up, no care to the laws of gravity. Ryder had always loved it. So Reyes stands now, atop a rock they'd shared relaxed nights upon, watching the stars with clasped hands—or trading searing kisses along collarbones and across necks, holding each other as if nothing else mattered. 

_It hadn't. It didn't._

Reyes brings himself to one knee, crumpled flowers in his right hand—the left marking illegible patterns in the dust. He looks to the mid-morning sky, then back to his fist grasping the delicate flora Cora had given him. She'd said they were from a garden Ryder had helped her plant on Eos—where he'd helped her lay a foundation. 

He clasped the stems tighter, knuckles turning white, the purple flowers drooping but still lovely. 

"What's it been now?" The wind blows; the water falls. Reyes' left hand supports him as his voice wavers—knee digging into the sand. And there's bitter laughter—bubbling up from the dead roses located in Reyes' diaphragm. "Five years?" 

The Kadaran desert is silent in response. Reyes nods to answer his own question—staying in the same position, a sad smile turning up the corners of his chapped lips. "It's not fair, you know. It's been five years, and I still—" He pauses; he gets a hold of himself, if even momentarily. "I still think of you, every day, Ryder. I think of you all the time, even when—"

He breaks off, sinking to the ground—his knee falling with him. "I think of you even when I think I'd like to forget. It's not fair that I—"

The wind blows. His voice cracks—more fragile than previously shattered glass. 

"It's been five years, and I still love you."

He places the flowers down—returns to his upright, standing position. 

"All I ever wanted, after that night we spent up on that ledge, after the party—was to be _your_ someone."

The breeze gently lifts the flowers, carrying them to the large body of water—delicate purple is a stark contrast to the adobe colored water. Even the flowers cannot stay. 

He won't admit to it—pretends like the streaks on his face are rain—that for once, storm clouds have overtaken Kadara. He is not crying; the torrential downpour is enveloping him. But it's only him. He pretends the tears falling from his eyes are the color of Kadaran red clay; he pretends; he pretends; he pretends. He thinks, momentarily, that he hears a small laugh from behind him—hands trailing along his back—the last thing Ryder said before he left that day, with burning stars in his eyes and fire in his heart: _"You're always gonna be my someone, Reyes."_ And then Ryder had kissed him, arms thrown around his neck, crushing their bodies together for what would be the final time. 

He wipes the raindrops from his cheeks. And the sky is clear, yet the cloudburst continues. 

"They say it's supposed to get better. Cora misses you like hell too, still." He shakes his head. "But it doesn't. Every day without you in it—I feel light, maybe I smile—then I'm remembering that you're dead. And then I don't feel a thing beyond the Ryder sized hole in my chest." 

The laughter that sucks itself from Reyes' throat is choked—perhaps on itself—for it is a bitter sound. 

"I don't regret loving you, Ryder. You're still the best thing that's ever happened to me—just wish I'd let you know when you were still by my side." 

_As opposed to now,_ he thinks, when his only connections to Ryder are the purple flowers gently dispersing across the lake—and his talks with Keema and Cora: Cora when she has a chance, Keema whenever he needs it. 

He'd come out to Sulfur Springs to mark five years since the death of Scott Ryder. He did this every year—hoped to the stars above that one day Scott would hear him and come running back—or jump back with those stupid jets. 

For Reyes, it was therapeutic; no one ever bothered him. That's why he was surprised to hear the connection upon his omni-tool crackle into life.

_"Reyes."_

"Cora, what—"

He can hear her choked voice on the other end of the connection—alarm creasing his features. 

_"He's back."_

* * *

_"You never stopped—being someone, to me—that is."_

_"I waited for you all those years, Ryder."_

_"I love you, so much."_

When Ryder kisses him, the sadness at missed time pouring from his mouth—Reyes swallows the grief. 

His words are a breath at Scott's neck.

_"I love you, too."_

Ryder chokes on his surprise—shatters against Reyes' shoulder. His sobs are not rain; they are ugly things—broken as a result of his time spent in captivity, and of his time simply drifting—praying to one day re-find his home. 

It had only taken Reyes years to say it.

He holds Scott as he fractures before him, for they'd both been slowly cracking for years. Reyes had come together the moment he'd seen Ryder; Ryder was still splitting—hurt and fear deep rooted in his chest. So he holds Scott tighter, crushes them together, whispering nothings into his hair. 

He will hold Scott Ryder till the end of time. Nothing will take this from him.

* * *

Reyes Vidal was _someone_ once again.

**Author's Note:**

> hii lemme know what you think! or u can gimme $$. (kidding, let me know what you think (: ! ) 
> 
> sidenote, if anyone has any reyes/ryder prompts they want filled, and u like my writing style, hmu in the comments or on twitter @migueiayun


End file.
